


The Cold Comfort of the In Between

by Sadbhyl



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, post mortem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:43:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley didn’t quite make it to Hell after his death. Good thing Lilah’s there to help show him the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cold Comfort of the In Between

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published December 9, 2004. Written for
> 
> [](http://raskazzptitsa.livejournal.com/profile)[ **raskazzptitsa**](http://raskazzptitsa.livejournal.com/) for her Christmas wishlist. A nod of the head to and more than a little five fingered discount from Mr. Piers Anthony, whose Incarnations of Immortality series has some of the best personifications of Heaven, Hell and in between that I’ve ever seen anywhere.

Wesley sat behind his desk, diligently at work.

The desk was one of the cheap battleship gray metal ones, standard issue from any bargain office supply distributor. It sat in the middle of a large, gray room, no windows, no pictures to distract him from the tedium of his task. There were no photographs on his desk, no coffee cup with a company logo, not even a small plant slowly dying of neglect. There was just an old desktop computer, running technology more than fifteen years out of date back on Earth without even an annoying screensaver to divert him, just the unwinking green LED staring back at him unforgivingly. Too numb to care, he struck several keys on the keyboard to call up another page of information and began transferring data into the forms in front of him.

“Hello, lover.”

Wes couldn’t help but smile at the sound of the sultry voice behind him. “Hello, Lilah.” He swung the chair around slowly to face her.  
  
She looked good. But then, she always did. Make-up flawless, cardinal red wrap-around dress perfectly suited to her contours and skin tone. Expensive black Italian stilettos dressed her feet and a matching silk scarf wrapped loosely around her throat accenting the smirk on her blood red lips. “What’s a nice boy like you doing in a dreary place like this?”

“Just fortunate, I suppose.”

She came around to lean back against the desk, her long fingers curled around the lip, her slender ankles crossed one over the other. “You know, tiger, you must have been a god damned saint in the rest of your life to end up here, considering the number of people you’ve betrayed in just the last six years. Not to mention the suicide. And that’s a mortal sin.”

“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I didn’t commit suicide.” He leaned back in his chair calmly, never breaking eye contact. “I was gutted like a bass.”

“Oh, come on, Wes. This is me.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “I know you better than anyone. You took a shotgun and a nine millimeter to an intervention with your best friend, but you confronted Vale with that little pig sticker and what? Your wits? You always knew your physical limitations. Hence the guns. So to me it stinks of suicide by sorcerer.”

Wesley didn’t answer, just watched her. He knew her as well as she knew him, and he could tell she was looking for something.

She shrugged. “Well, it will all come out in the end. The Prejudicial Termination worksheet will see to that.” She held up her hand and suddenly was holding a ream of paper. “In triplicate.”

“It will be some time before I get to that, I’m afraid,” he said blandly, picking up his pen. “I’m currently working on subform Z127-QP3. Onerous Burden In Utero.”

“Aw, were you a bad little fetus?”

He just quirked an eyebrow at her.

“It must really suck, having to spend all eternity calculating the balance of sin on your soul. Not that it matters. You’ll never, ever get to the end of all those forms. And if you do, you’ll just have to go back over it looking for errors.”

“Was there something you needed, Lilah?”

She rose to her feet and swayed around behind him, trailing her hand familiarly over his shoulder. “What if I could make it all go away?”

He glanced sideways at her as she slid her arms around him from behind. “Is this a business proposition?”

“Aren’t they all?” she breathed into his ear. Plucking the pen out of his fingers, she tossed it onto the desk as she circled him to straddle his legs. “You know what I’m here for, right?”

His eyes narrowed, enjoying the view down the front of her dress as she leaned forward to rest her hands on the arms of his chair. “My corruption,” he acknowledged, looking back up into her eyes. “Isn’t this a bit old hat for us?”

He had forgotten how much he enjoyed this, the barbs and banter that were foreplay for them. No one stimulated his mind as much as Lilah did. The fact that she did amazing things to his body didn’t hurt matters. He’d missed that, too.

“What can I say?” She moved closer to sit astride him, her skirt inching up to reveal the tops of her stocking as she draped her arms around his neck. “You’re notoriously gentlemanly with new girls, whereas I already know all your kinks.”

He chuckled, hands going up to coast over her back. “I should expect you do, seeing as you introduced me to half of them.”

She wriggled against his growing erection. “One of the perks of the job.” Bending her head down, she began placing gentle kisses along his throat, pausing to give special attention to the puckered skin at the end of his scar, making him gasp at the sensation.

His hands wandered up her back to slide down over her shoulders, palming her breasts roughly before continuing down to untie her dress, twitching it open. He wasn’t surprised to find her naked underneath, save for the black stockings and the black satin garter holding them up. Lilah always did know how to dress for a seduction.

“You certainly aren’t resisting this very hard,” she murmured against his throat, shrugging off the dress before going to work on his buttons.

Lilah felt so good in his arms, her skin soft and luxuriant against his as she slowly bared his chest. She felt better even than she had in life, but perhaps that was just the time he had spent in this bland, solitary place. He should be resisting her, should send her on her way with curses for her and her dark masters. He couldn’t. To be honest, he had expected the final dispensation of his soul to have ended much worse for him than it had. It was no less than he deserved. She was right. Since the moment he had picked Connor up out of that bassinet to steal him away from Angel, he had known he was damned. Maybe her presence here was just an opportunity to set things right.

“Why should I?” He worried at her earlobe with his tongue. “If what you say is true, I’m damned anyway. I’d rather get there in your arms than trapped beneath a pile of papers.”

“Why, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce,” she breathed coquettishly as she made short work of his fly, “I do believe that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“That’s me,” he grunted as she pulled his cock out, stroking it almost affectionately. “Another bloody Romeo.” He gripped her hips and shifted her, positioning his cock and driving up into her.

Lilah threw her head back with her own gasp of pleasure, and Wes took the opportunity to catch a fistful of her hair, holding her like that as his other hand came up to drag the scarf away from her throat so that he could caress the line there with long, slow ripples of his tongue.

“Jesus oh fuck!” She clutched at him, her body spasming so hard she nearly broke the connection between the two of them. He held her tight, her hard nipples digging into his chest as he continued torturing the sensitive wound until finally she exploded all around him, cursing his name as she clutched him. When the orgasm released her, she slumped against him with a hoarse whimper. The feel of her clenching around him after so long here, so long without _her_ , very nearly brought him off as well, but he fought it down, determined to regain some control even as he gave up his soul.

Wesley held her quietly, stroking her hair softly, placing gentle kisses along her temple until finally she was able to lift her head again. “How did you . . .” She stopped herself, realizing. Lifting her hand, she traced one delicate scarlet nail along his own sensitive scar. “Of course. How could I forget?”

He closed his eyes, delighting in the myriad sensations assaulting him from every direction. “Well, you have been dead for a while.”

Leaning forward, she kissed tenderly along the mark. “Feels like forever some days.”

“Is it bad?”

She looked down at him incredulously, but he saw a flash of horror and fear in her eyes. “It’s Hell, Wes. What did you expect?”

Compassion washed over him, and he drew her down tenderly to kiss her for the first time since she’d appeared.

Her mouth was soft and responsive, and brought back memories of so many other kisses they’d shared, expressing so many different emotions, from angry and hurtful to playful to intensely erotic. This one seemed to be going in the direction of that last, despite his intention for it to be comforting. She finally pulled away, looking down at him with heavy, scorching eyes. “I thought I was supposed to be the one corrupting you.”

“Well, you aren’t doing a very good job of it.” He brushed his thumb over her peaked nipple for emphasis.

She grinned. “I’ll just have to do something about that, won’t I?”

Her feet resting on the floor, her long leg muscles tightened along his, tightening her channel as she slowly rose up on him before sinking back down.

Wes leaned his head back, his arms still around her. The cushioned friction of her quim tightened and released around him as she moved, proof that Kegel exercises were effective even in Hell. As she accelerated, her breath began coming in short, musical gasps that only heightened his excitement, giving proof of her own continued pleasure. But all the indeterminate time in this place, dull, dreary, numbing, made him vulnerable to this sudden onslaught of intense layers of sensation. Her tongue tickling along his gums. The musky scent of her perspiration. Dark eyes dilated to almost black. Whispered wet suction sounding with each stroke. Tight belly muscles flexing and releasing against his. He couldn’t hold out against it any more and groaned animally as he rammed up into her, shooting deep into her in painful relief.

With it came the first peace Wesley had known in a very long time.

She didn’t stop, taking advantage of the last lingering rigidity in his cock to pleasure herself. He held her, one hand fondling her breast as she rode him hard, her face twisting in ecstasy until finally her eyes flew wide and she came with a tremendous shudder that rocked them both.

When he thought she was finally able to perceive him again, he said softly, “It’s been a while.”

“Like you said,” she replied pragmatically but in his same soft tone, “we’ve been dead for a while.”

“Before that.”

“Yeah, well, the last time was the night of the rain of fire. Good times.”

He stroked his hand gently along her arm. “It felt good.”

“No one ever questioned we were hell on wheels in the sack, lover.” She climbed off him with a small wince and picked up her dress.

“I’m still here,” he said, a bit surprised. With nothing else to do, he closed up his pants and began buttoning his shirt.

“Guess you were closer to the white side than we figured.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Just means I’ll have to come back again. Don’t have too much fun without me, handsome.” She strolled off and in three steps disappeared.

Turning back to his desk with a pleased grin, he was surprised to see her scarf laying there, covering all the paperwork, right where he had dropped it in the midst of their passion. He picked it up and held it to his nose. It smelled of White Linen and brimstone. Folding it carefully, he tucked it in his desk drawer before picking up his pen and setting back to work.

 

 

She reappeared forty-seven pages later.

Wes glanced up and there she was, dressed the same as the last time they’d had sex in life. Pleated skirt criminally short, knee-highs and Mary Janes, white oxford tied over her navel, hair in pigtails around her face. The only thing missing were the tiny spectacles. He wanted to think she was being sensitive, but he thought this was instead a strategic choice. Now that Fred was martyred on the fires of Illyria’s birth, Wes had the feeling that Lilah wasn’t as sure of herself using Fred as a weapon. Nonetheless, the outfit was a brave risk.

He rewarded her with a short chuckle before setting his pen down and looking up at her sternly. “What can I do for you, Morgan?”

She suppressed a pleased grin to lower her eyes coyly, drilling one toe into the floor. “Teacher sent me to see you, sir. She said I was a bad girl and the headmaster needed to beat it out of me.”

“Oh, really.” He rose from his chair to move around the desk, circling her critically. “Just how bad were you, Morgan?”

“Very, very bad, sir.” He could hear the wicked grin in her voice even from behind her. “Horrible. Wicked. Incorrigible.”

“I see.” He stopped in front of her, keeping his expression stern. “Perhaps if I took a ruler to your palms, you’d improve your behavior.”

“No!” she protested. “I mean, no, sir,” she back pedaled quickly. “That’s much too lenient for a wicked girl like me.”

“I see,” he repeated, crossing his arms over his chest. “What will it take to make you behave, Morgan?”

She licked her lips, her eyes already bright with desire. “I think you’re going to have to spank me, sir. Quite a lot.”

He sighed outwardly, but inwardly he suppressed a groan of desire. “I’m very disappointed in you. Please take your position.”

She bent forward, gripping the front edge of the desk as she stretched her back with feline grace, the hem of her skirt rising promisingly up her thighs. Stepping closer behind her, he laid his hands on her thighs, sliding them up to flip the skirt over her back, revealing her bare ass to his hungry gaze. “You really are a very wicked girl,” he said roughly, cupping and caressing her plump cheeks.

“I know,” she admitted unrepentantly. “I can see I’m going to have to spend a lot of time in the headmaster’s office.”

“The things I suffer for the good of your character.”

Wes lost himself momentarily in the warm velvet of her skin against his palms until she purred softly and stretched into him, returning him to the game. “You really are a little harlot, Morgan. Good girls don’t enjoy being fondled by their teachers. And you are enjoying this, aren’t you?” He delved his hand between her legs, getting his answer himself. God, she was already so wet, he wanted to bury himself in her right now. But if she wanted to play . . .

She obviously did, gasping softly at his light touch. “Yes, sir.”

He sighed melodramatically. “I think it’s going to take more than a beating to make you change your ways. But we’ll start there. Ten strokes, I think. Count them off, please.”

And with that he brought his hand down on the curve of her ass in a flat slap that made her gasp in surprise, blood blooming beneath the surface of her skin. “One,” she swallowed.

“Louder, please,” he instructed. “I wouldn’t want to lose track.” He slapped down on her other cheek.

“Two!” she cried out, thrusting back against him.

He worked methodically, never striking the same spot twice until it was a pale rosy shade all over. When he finished, he slid his hand between her legs again. Her thighs were damp, her clit swollen and eager for his touch. He denied her that comfort, instead deftly separating her lips to allow more moisture to flow out. “This will never do,” he chided her, forcing his voice into stern tones to cover his own hunger. “I can see we’ll need to take harsher steps. Take off my belt.”

She whirled around, her face flushed and eyes dark with desire as her hands found his buckle and quickly undid the leather. But she didn’t stop as she slid the strap out, sinking to her knees as she opened his fly. He couldn’t repress his groan as her slender fingers wrapped around his cock, drawing him out as she pushed pants and shorts down his thighs. Her warm breath presaged the first touch of her tongue, eager and confident as she began working him. He leaned forward to support himself with one hand on the desk beside them as he succumbed to the well-loved pleasure of her experienced mouth, her tongue lapping intimate patterns over his head as her strong hand jerked him, her other hand cupping and manipulating his sac. But it wasn’t until he opened his eyes again and looked down at her that she took the final step. With their eyes intimately locked, she circled her coral tinted mouth and took him in.

He slammed his hand on the desk but avoided crying out this time. She watched him even as he watched her, the girlishly pale color of her lips standing out against his blood-darkened cock as she moved up and down the length of it. Reaching down between them, he undid the buttons of her shirt to free her breasts, watching them sway in time to her movements, the dusky nipples peeking out from behind the crisp white fabric with each movement.

He felt the familiar tightening in his gut and reached down to grip her pigtails, pulling her off him. “Do you think that’s an appropriate way for a student to treat her teacher?” His voice was hoarse and ragged, but he was determined to see this out.

Her grip on his cock tightened, emphasizing her awareness of his arousal. “God, yes.”

Close to the edge, he gripped her shoulders and dragged her to her feet. “I can see it’s going to have to be the cane for you.” He turned her and shoved her back over the desk. Pushing her skirt back up, he clutched at her bare hip, guiding his cock with his own hand.

“Oh no, not the cane.” Her desperate tone gave lie to her words as she spread her legs wider, rising up on her toes to facilitate his entry. He found the soft give of her center and with one thrust sank into her liquid, welcoming depths.

This time they both cried out. But Wes didn’t stay still long, desperate for the friction he could only find in her walls. She slammed back against him, her grip on the desk giving her leverage to meet his punishing rhythm. He wrapped his arms around her, one slipping the knot of her shirt free before moving up to massage her sensitive, swollen nipples, the other snaking beneath her skirt to finally finger coarsely over her hard clit.

She sobbed out his name, effectively breaking the game, and he sagged in relief. Using his arm around her torso, he pulled her upright until her back rested against his chest, changing their angle of penetration so she was even tighter around him, her hoarse cries telling him that each thrust was driving into her most sensitive flesh. “God, Lilah,” he murmured against the column of her throat. “You feel so bloody amazing.”

She clutched at his arm, riding his cock and fingers desperately. “Wes, oh god!”

Shifting his hips, he twisted his cock slightly as he sank into her, pinching hard on her tender clit.

The response was electric. She began bucking against him, her nails digging into his arm as her tender quim fluttered along his shaft

He couldn’t hold out any longer, giving himself over to the devastating orgasm that had built up within him. With a long, low moan he came fiercely, pumping endless streams of ecstatic relief deep into his lover’s body.

Unable to support his own weight any longer, he turned to sit on the edge of the desk, drawing her close to nestle her back against his chest again. He enjoyed the feel of her still trembling body against his, one hand tracing random circles over her belly as the other gently massaged one round breast. “They have quite a wardrobe department in the underworld,” he teased when he had voice again, nuzzling into the damp tendrils of her hair.

She laughed, still regaining her breath. “All the better to lead you and everyone else astray, my dear.”

He kissed along her shoulder. “They seemed to have simply raided your closet.”

“I wish.” She rubbed back against him comfortably. “I had this white Natori number that would have made your eyeballs sweat.”

Wes chuckled against her damp skin, enjoying the taste of her perspiration on his lips. His humor faded, though, and he held her closer. “I thought they’d send you.”

“Hmm?” She leaned her head back against his shoulder.

“The Senior Partners. I thought they’d send you to be their liaison.”

“Silly boy.” She turned around, pressing against him as she draped an arm around his neck, the other hand tracing along his cheekbone. “Why would you think any such thing?”

“You knew us. You already had an inside line on how we operate.” He lowered his mouth to caress along her lips. “It just seemed natural.”

“Ah, but like I said before, you’re too much of a gentleman with a new girl. You all gave Eve access you never would have given me.”

“We certainly did not . . .”

“Wes, would you honestly have given any credence to a single word I said to you?” She rested her chin in her hand, supporting her elbow on his shoulder. “I could have said the sky was blue and the lot of you would have argued with me for days rather than agree. And I would have had no luck at all getting into Angel’s tight leather pants . . .”

Wes shook his head. “That was just once, and it was because Lorne . . .”

Lilah just smirked at him knowingly.

“Oh. I see.”

“Oh, come on. A guy has needs, even an uptight, maudlin vampire. And there was no chance of him getting a happy with Eve. So, a little slap and tickle after hours, emphasis on the slap . . .” She shrugged. “I had my round with tall, dark and broody. Just as happy to leave him to the next generation.”

He drew her close. “I had hoped it would be you,” he admitted in soft tones.

When she tensed, he knew somehow he had said something wrong. “Well, there’s a reason for the sign.” She pulled away, tying the tails of her blouse abruptly before starting on the buttons, her skirt falling into rumpled pleats along her legs.

“What sign?” Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he closed his own trousers.

She glared at him in disgust. “Did you even bother to read that copy of _Inferno_ I gave you?”

“Ah.” He studied the floor, his fingers doing up his shirt automatically. “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

“Hope’s a sucker’s game anyway.” She yanked out the ties holding her pigtails in place and combed her fingers through fiercely until it all fell loose around her shoulders again. “You get nothing from it but pain.”

“Well, we won’t have to worry about it much longer, I should think.” He kept his tone light, still uncertain of his error. “At the rate we’re going, you’ll have me down in Hell in no time, subject to all the tortures you can devise. I presume there will be little pitchforks of some kind?”

“God, you just don’t get it, do you?” She turned on him, her face livid but tears standing in her eyes. “This is Hell, Wesley, not Disneyland. You’ll be damned. Do you think that’s a game? You’ll suffer torments beyond description second by lingering second for all eternity. And my job will be done, so we won’t ever see each other again.” She dashed the tears from her eyes, refusing to let them fall on their own.

“Lilah . . .” He reached for her, but she stepped away.

“You’re a damned fool for letting me do this to you. You should have learned better by now.”

Before he could find out what she meant, she turned and disappeared, leaving him with stacks of paper and too many questions, questions that remained even after the numbing qualities of the place took hold again.

 

 

This time they had a bed.

Soft, plush, laden with silk sheets and piles of pillows, and Lilah tied down beneath him.

Her arms strained against the silken ropes as he undulated over her, leaning up on one hand to watch her face twist in agonized pleasure as he slowly tortured her clit with his thumb. She was beautiful in her ecstasy, and he found himself so entranced with her that he forgot about his own pleasure.

The sudden anticipatory clench of her inner walls startled him into release, his cock pulsing to the root within her as she whimpered out her own orgasm. He curled his arms around her, easing her down with soft words and gentle caresses as his own body relaxed as well.

She purred softly, stretching her long body languidly beneath him. “Nice to know you haven’t lost your touch horizontally.”

“Hmm.” He nuzzled into her temple. “Care to try diagonal?”

She just laughed.

“I missed you.”

Her face darkened. “Don’t start lying to me now, lover. You know we always hurt each other more with the truth.”

“I’m not lying.” He lifted up to look into her eyes. “There wasn’t a day that passed where I didn’t think about you at least once.”

The bonds holding her didn’t so much release as simply pass through her, freeing her hands to push him off her roughly. “Yes, I can see that with how busy you were pursuing your little Texas belle.” She rose with jerky grace.

Wes followed her. “Fred has nothing to do with this.”

“Oh, come on, Wesley!” Her body shimmered for a moment and suddenly she was fully dressed in her own form of armor, black silk Armani and Jimmy Choo pumps, the collar of her red silk blouse filled in with a matching scarf. Her makeup was flawless and predatory, her hair perfectly coiffed and showing no signs of their lovemaking. “You can’t honestly tell me that from the moment your dearest, darling twig finally gave you a tumble that you ever gave me a second thought. I was always second choice with you. Don’t insult me by trying to pretend otherwise.”

He caught her wrist as she turned to walk away from him, twisting it just enough to force her to turn back. “Don’t presume to know my feelings. Yes, I became involved with Fred. Yes, I loved her. But that doesn’t lessen what I felt for you. I would have saved you if I could, Lilah. I swear it.”

“I’m beyond salvation. I always was.”

“I don’t believe that.” He drew her closer, the only contact between them his hold on her wrist. “I don’t believe any of us are beyond salvation. I’ve seen too much, done too much to fool myself into thinking miracles can’t happen. If Angel and Spike can be redeemed, I have to believe there’s a chance for me as well. And for you.”

“Wesley, don’t . . .” she tried to twist out of his grip, but he didn’t release her.

“Love saved them. But you said it yourself. Love isn’t always about holding hands. You challenged me, you inspired me, even at our darkest moments. You made me look inside myself in ways no one ever had before and no one ever will again. We aren’t about holding hands and we never will be. But I love you just the same.”

“You can’t . . .” There were tears standing in her eyes, but she stopped struggling.

His eyes softened and he smiled sympathetically. “I guess I’ll just have to show you.” He slipped his hand up under the weight of her hair, cupping her head to guide her close as he lowered his mouth to hers. He moved carefully, softly, slowly breaking her with his gentleness. “I love you, Lilah.” He whispered against her lips.

“Oh god, Wes!” She shattered under his care, surrendering to his words and caresses at long last. She tried to hold him closer, kiss him harder, but it seemed as though his body were growing more diffuse. She lifted her head to meet his gaze and saw he had grown translucent, fading away before her eyes. “Oh god, not now!”

She’d done it. She’d succeeded in the last instant to damn him, and there was nothing she could do now to prevent it.

His eyes widened in surprise, her name on his lips as he vanished entirely.

“No!”

Her cry echoed through the room, but there was no response. One by one all the objects in the room slowly faded out as well, starting with the paperwork on the desk and ending with the bed she had conjured up. She stood in the middle of the empty, gray room, waiting for the pull that would return her to her own damnation.

It never came.

Instead a desk appeared, simple but vaguely feminine looking. A state of the art laptop appeared on top of it.

Something shifted, and she looked down to find her clothing had changed. Gone was the power broker wardrobe, replaced by soccer mom neutral. Tan flats, beige twill slacks and a matching shirt. Her hand went to her throat to confirm that the top was a turtleneck, bare of any jewelry. Her ears were bare of even the simplest studs, her hair caught up in a simple ponytail held only by a bare elastic tie. She thought about letting it down, but quickly lost all interest.

The computer pinged. She moved around the desk to see the screen. In the center of the monitor, a window was open, reading “lilah_morgan, you have one new message.”

Reaching down, she clicked on the envelope icon. A new window opened.

“Miss Morgan,” the letter opened. “Data entry to commence immediately. Congratulations on your new position. Best regards, the Management.”

The computer pinged again and a new window opened. It was a database input table, the header of which read “Case File 5S273B-DJE12973-972, Lilah Morgan, Final Dispensation Analysis. Impact of Conception, page one of seventy three.”

Suddenly around her appeared rows of file cabinets, all the same neutral beige color, each consecutively numbered. The drawer of the first one slid open on its own. She reached into it to draw out the first file. It was labeled with her mother’s name.

She sat down at the desk with the open file in front of her and began diligently entering information into the small boxes in the database.

She never questioned her actions, never reflected on what she was doing, just moved through the pages one by one by one, uninterested in any of the information as it passed by her eyes. There was no sense of time, only endless beige and numbness.

Finally she reached the end of the worksheet and with a tiny flare of pride clicked the submit button.

The screen flickered twice before blinking back in a vibrant blue. “Critical system error,” the screen read. “Please reboot and try again.”

She sighed and turned off the machine, turning it on again a moment later before going back to the filing cabinet for the original file.

“So what about you?” a rich, familiar voice came from behind her. “Were you a naughty fetus?”

She whirled around to see Wesley standing on the other side of the desk, dressed all in white with a teasing grin on his face. All the numbness and apathy drained away, and the sudden rush of emotion nearly brought her to tears.

“I would imagine you were,” he continued, still smiling playfully. “Even that early I’m certain you were determined to make an impression.”

She gripped the back of the desk chair. “What are you doing here?”

Slowly he came around the desk. “I came to get you.”

“But why? I’m already damned.”

He stopped in front of her, the chair in between them. “Look around you, Lilah. Does this look like Hell? You made a mistake, and it cost you your eternal torment. But I dare say you won’t miss it too much.”

She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“You didn’t corrupt me. You saved me.” His hand came up to trace along her face. “Every time you came to me, you reminded me how much I cared about you, how much you meant to me. When I acknowledged my feelings for you, it pushed me over and I was raptured.”

“So why am I here?”

“Because in saving me you saved yourself. You weren’t as bad as you liked to pretend, and all actions here in Purgatory have freight on your soul. By helping me without expecting anything for yourself, you earned enough indulgence to pull you up out of Hell and land you here.”

“I didn’t know that’s what I was doing.” She leaned into his touch, unashamed of enjoying the feel of his warm, calloused skin on her cheek.

“That’s the beauty of it. If you had known, this wouldn’t have happened, because then it would have been a selfish act. Instead, you helped us both.”

She looked from him to the computer screen winking at her and back to him. “So what happens now?”

“Now,” he took the arm of the chair and rolled it out from in between them. “Now I get to live up to the vow I made you.” He stepped closer, gathering her into his arms. “I get to save you.”

She licked her lips, her heart already racing from his closeness. “How?”

Wes leaned closer until his lips brushed up against her ear. “By making love to you for the first time.”

Shivering in response to the vibration of his voice, she shook her head. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

He bent to place kisses on the delicate skin behind her ear. “We’ve had sex, yes. We’ve fucked, we’ve mated, we’ve parked and petted and fooled around, we’ve humped and we’ve screwed. But we’ve never, ever made love before.”

She couldn’t resist him any more. Lifting her arms, she draped them around his neck. “What if I drag you back down?”

He shrugged negligently. “Then we’ll just have to find a way back.” He kissed along her jaw to the sensitive pulse point on the other side.

“I don’t belong in Heaven, Wes.” She tipped her chin up to allow him better access.

“There are a lot of imperfect people in Heaven, my love. Besides, how can it be Heaven for me if you aren’t there?”

She tilted her head to the side to kiss his neck, enjoying his shiver of response. “You know I’ll be running the place inside of a month.”

“The Boss can probably use a break.” He pulled her close against him. “Are you done protesting? I’m rather looking forward to making love to you.”

“What if it doesn’t work the first time?” She wasn’t surprised to find a soft bed behind them as he pressed her back, tumbling her into its downy comforts.

He began pulling her shirt from her slacks. “I’ll just have to keep trying, won’t I?”

Lilah surrender in relief, with only one thing left to say.

“Damn.”


End file.
